


Conversion

by Pixel_Runner



Series: Building Empire [17]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 07:33:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13002903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixel_Runner/pseuds/Pixel_Runner
Summary: How Kraglin ended up on the Eclector





	1. The Sandwich

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kraglin gets arrested for possession of defiled remains on Atrax. He is sentenced to six months re-education

“I’ll give you this kid, it takes balls to sign up as crew when you know the ship has electrical problems!  You are a hell of a mechanic to get us all sorted out by arrival.  You ever need a reference, I’ll give you a good one!”   
  
“Thanks Captain Soren.” Kraglin replied.     
  
“Just wish you was coming with us on the next leg.”   
  
“Nah.  Next cargo isn’t really my thing.  You will be better off without me underfoot.” Kraglin deflected.   
  
“Well, make sure you help yourself to a good meal in the mess hall on your way out.  You’re too skinny.”   
  
“Yes, Sir!”   
  
——   
  
Kraglin was standing in line at customs.  It was a long frickin line.  He had been waiting for three hours already.  He wasn’t even halfway to the counter.  It wasn’t a take a number, have a seat line.  It was stand in a line that zig zagged back and forth across a huge room. He was hot.  He was tired.  His feet hurt.  His ship had left an hour ago, so getting out of line and taking the job running drugs was no longer an option.

 

The woman in line in front of him dipped into her bag and pulled out a piece of fruit.  She broke it in half, holding one piece in each hand and began carefully eating it with both of the heads. Kraglin had a bagged lunch, but wasn’t sure he was ready to eat it.  He had no idea how long he would have to wait before he could get more food.

 

Two hours later, he was a bit more than halfway to the customs counter.  He dug out his sandwich and took a bite.

 

Alarms went off.  Lights started flashing.  Everyone in line with him, lay down and put their hands behind their heads.  Kraglin followed along.  Heavy armed security swarmed around him.  He was cuffed and hauled to his feet.  There was shouting.  His sandwich was bagged for evidence.

 

“What the flarg is going on?” Kraglin demanded.

 

The tactical team member who was currently holding him up said, “Atraxi is  vegetarian by law.  You are being charged with complacency in the death of this…” he looked at the sandwich, “bovine.  Furthermore, you may be charged with the consumption of animal or animal byproduct. Depending on whether the contents of your sandwich was lab grown or not.”

 

“Wait!  Don’t I get a lawyer or something?”

 

“Can you afford a lawyer?” the customs officer asked.

 

“No!”

 

“Well then,” the person sneered, “lawyers don’t work for free you know.”

 

Without the aid of a lawyer, Kraglin was arrested, processed, tried, convicted, sentenced and delivered to his prison cell in only three hours.  Which meant, it was likely much faster than waiting in the customs line.  His cell was pristine and white and significantly nicer than either the hole he had grown up in or the bunk he shared with two other crew members on the last ship he worked.

 

Really, aside from the two itchy new tattoos on his neck, this wasn’t half bad.

 

He had been sentenced to 170 standard days of re-education.  There was a pamphlet. It had three folds and was in full glossy 3D colour.  The Atraxi prided themselves on the humane conditions of their prison system.  If he spent half a day working in the prison, he would be trained in new skills, paid for his time, and allowed to participate in the day’s discussions of the benefits of a vegetarian lifestyle.  If he chose to stay in his bunk, he would not.  His stay would be however long it took him to complete his re-education. 

 

Kraglin used the intercom to ask the attendant (not guard, the pamphlet had assured him) “What happens if I just never get through my 170 days?  What if I want to just stay in my bunk and have food delivered?”

 

The person, who sounded suspiciously female, seemed puzzled.  “In that case you will be provided with medical care.  Beings without mental illness generally do not willingly subject themselves to solitary confinement.”

 

Kraglin had to think about that while he was getting ready to sleep in his surprisingly soft bed.

 

\----

 

The next morning, the alarm went off.  It was a soothing new age chiming sort of sound.  The door to his cell swung open.  Kraglin got up and cautiously peeked out into the sterile white hallway.  There was an assortment of species and genders coming out of the rooms.  Kraglin followed the herd to the clean white cafeteria.  His palm print got him a reasonable looking meal, and a message about how his delicious breakfast was 100% vegan.  Huh. He’d never eaten a vegan before.  It weren’t bad.

 

Re-education, it turned out was sitting in a classroom (white)  listening to a lecture about the problems with the commercial meat industry.  Yeah.  Six months of this was going to be harder than he would have guessed.  Everyone shuffled out of class avoiding eye contact.  He scanned his palm print on the way in.  On the way out, the console congratulated him on completing his first day of a new and healthier lifestyle.  The guy in line ahead of him grinned and rolled his eyes.

 

Kraglin grinned back at him.  

 

“Hi.  I’m Birt.”

 

“Kraglin.”  They shook hands.

 

“What you in for Kraglin?”

 

Kraglin blushed, “I didn’t know about the meat thing.  I had a roast beef sandwich on my way through customs.  You?”

 

“Chicken smuggling,” Birt replied  “They assign you chores yet?”

 

“Not yet.”

 

“Well, I can promise it won’t be kitchen duty.” Birt, laughed hugely and slapped Kraglin on the back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my first time participating in a challenge.


	2. The Prisoner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yondu is brought into the hospital wing where Kraglin is cleaning up. He is unconscious.

Kraglin was mopping the floor.  Over the last 90 days he had come to deeply hate white.  By now he was both craving colour, any colour, and was completely frustrated by how much time he spent cleaning to keep everything this white.  Honestly, he suspected most of the population was on housekeeping to keep the place sparkling.  

 

He sighed as he mopped the blood off the floor in the sick bay.  He was willing to bet it was a problem the Atraxi never talked about.  The prison held several species of obligate carnivores.  Kraglin still wasn’t entirely sure what  vegan was, but it made them sick.  Sooner or later they got hungry enough to trying eating one of the other prisoners. Usually, they went for something smaller than them, but sometimes, if they were really in a bad way, the little guys got nasty too. 

 

He had no idea what had happened to either the Achernonian or the Krylorian he tried to eat, but past experience said that neither of them would be seen again.

 

He was just changing the mop bucket when the guards brought in some unconscious blue guy.  That was odd, so was watching them strap him to the exam table.  The Atraxi prided themselves on not using physical restraints.  Usually, prisoners came in, under their own power, under the influence of chemical walking sedation.  He made a point of ignoring the whole thing and concentrating on cleaning his corner of floor.

 

It seemed to work, most of the time.  You ignore the guards and they ignored you.  Keep your head down, do the work, hope you don’t get eaten by something bigger’n you.

 

Kraglin was surprised when the guards left, but the guy was so tied down, he weren’t goin’ no where.  Hmm.  Interesting.  Kraglin inched over for a closer look.  Blue was all scarred to hell and someone had grafted a chunk of red rock to his head.  What was that all about?  While Kraglin was looking for indications of cybernetic grafting, Blue’s eyes opened.

 

Kraglin jerked back and hurried over to where he was mopping.

 

“Whatchya looking at, String Bean?”

 

Kraglin ignored him.  He was shocked the guy’s eyes were pink.  Not a Kree then.

 

“Hey!  I am TALKIN’ to you.”

 

“Hey!  I is IGNORING you.”

 

The guy started whistling.  What was that about?  Kraglin looked around nervously.  There weren’t nothing happening.  Blue seemed surprised.  “You can’t just whistle and expect me to obey you, jackass.  I ain’t a dog.”

 

Blue sighed, “What’s yur name?”

 

Kraglin just snorted.

 

“I’m Yondu Udonta.”

 

Now Kraglin laughed.  “Sure you are.  We always get famous space pirates passing through here.”

 

“I was on a job.”

 

“Uh huh.  Keep talkin’ sunshine.  I believe you.”

 

“Look, you help me out here and I’ll take you with me when I escape.  I’ll even buy you a big ass chunk of real cow once we hit the black.”

 

Kraglin kept mopping the floor.  

 

“What, you don’t look Atraxi.  You their janitor or somethin?”

 

“I’m a prisoner, same as you.”

 

Yondu was looking around.  “You see a soundproof box ‘round here?”

 

Yeah, Kraglin did.  It was on the desk, but he ignored the question and concentrated on mopping the floor.  There hadn't been too much blood, but it got everywhere.  And it took a lot of scrubbing to get everything pristine white again.

 

“You find that box, and get it open, boy, I’ll get you outta here.  I only got caught ‘cuz I were too drunk to whistle.”  The man thought some more.  “Ah, shit.  Whiskey’s gonna be pissed.”

 

“Whiskey your girl?”  Why, Kraglin asked himself, was he so invested in the answer?  He didn’t know the guy or what he did, but there weren’t many men who could swagger while tied to a table.

 

“Whiskey’s the gal who raised me.”  Blue thought some more.  “It would be advisable not to call her my mama.”

 

Kraglin thought about that.  “Yur Yondu …  Yur  claiming to be Yondu - rogue Ravager pirate - Udonta and you’re worried about what some old lady is gonna think about you bein’ arrested?”

 

Blue snorted, “She ain’t gonna care I got arrested, but she’s gonna be some mad that I got too drunk to whistle proper.”

 

“What’s with the whistling?”

 

By now Yondu had managed to crane his neck around enough to see the box on the desk.  “Open that, and I’ll show you.”

 

“Yur gonna get me stuck in here longer.  I don’t think I can take another set of lectures.”

 

“Look,” Blue said reasonably, “If I’m Yondu Udonta, then that box holds my yaka arrow.  You open it, I get us both outta here.  If I ain’t, then what’s it gonna hurt to open the box?”

 

“Could be a bomb.”

 

Blue rolled his eyes, “You think the Atraxi would leave a bomb laying around?”

 

“It ain’t laying around.  They put it in a box.”

 

“If it’s a bomb, what’s a box gonna do?”

 

Kraglin growled and ignored Blue for a few minutes while he thought.  Then he turned around too fast and “accidently” knocked the box off the desk with his broom.

 

Yondu Udonta whistled the arrow through the straps tying him to the exam table.  Then he sent it flying toward Kraglin, who flinched.  It stopped so close to his left eye that he couldn’t actually see it.  Kraglin dint see the point of whining ‘bout Udonta breaking his word.  Guy was a pirate, after all.  He was just pissed at himself for lettin’ the fast talkin’ bastard loose.

 

‘Bout the time that Kraglin was tryin’ to make peace with his death, the arrow was suddenly whistled back to Udonta’s hand.  The man pulled a micronised blaster out of the heel of his boot and activated it to return to full size.  Then he stomped over to where Kraglin was trying not to shit himself and ducked to use him as a shield. “Ain’t personal, kid, but yur going first.”  

 

The guards were waiting just outside the door.  The arrow dropped them all.  Kraglin just concentrated on the way his arm was twisted painfully behind his back and tried not to think on the musical death that were goin’ on all ‘round him as he were pushed forward and, eventually, outta the building.

 

Once they were in the Yard, an M-class decloaked almost on top of them and there was the bright yellow light of a transport beam.  Yondu pushed him to the floor as then passed through the air lock.  Well, at least he was on the right side of it.

 

The pilot turned out to be a old lady with faded lavender skin and long white hair pulled back into twin braids that looked way too young on her. She pointed the ship’s nose sharply at the sky, slamming both Kraglin and Yondu against the back wall and accelerated upward with the sort of speed that was generally considered reckless these days.

 

She called over her shoulder, “Seat belts, assholes!” as though there was anyway either of them could make it to a chair.

 

“Gods damn it, Whiskey!  Turn on the internal gravity!” Yondu swore.

 

Whiskey, absentmindedly made a rude gesture over her shoulder as she swerved to avoid one of the Atraxi’s star shaped ships.

 

From where Kraglin was laying, it looked like she spun the ship at the last moment so that an incoming missile missed them and took out the Atraxi ship directly in front of them.  Whiskey gave a short burst of gunfire to clear the worst of the debris then plowed straight through what had been a prison cruiser only moment before.

 

They hit the jump point at a dead run, then slammed on the brakes and spun to face what ever might have followed them through.

 

There was a few tense moments, during which Yondu scrabbled into one of the gunner’s seats and Kraglin took the other only a heartbeat behind him.  After a few moments, it became apparent nothing was coming for them and everyone stood down slightly.

 

That’s when Whiskey snatched a piece of pretty, swirled glass off the console and hurled it at Yondu’s head.

 

“Ow!”

 

He caught the second one, and the third, but then he was out of hands and Whiskey wasn’t out of ammo.  Kraglin had never seen so much crap on a dashboard.

 

“Ow!  Ow!  Flarg!  Stop it!  Whiskey!  Shit!  Stop it!  Gods damn it! NO! No! Not that one!”

 

She hesitated and looked at the gemstone in her hand.  She set it carefully down but grabbed the next thing on the dash.  She looked at Yondu surrounded by the last eleven things she had thrown at him and sighed.  “You can’t go getting arrested, Yondu,” Whiskey said, sadly.  “I am too old to be raising your son.”

 

“He ain’t my son.”

 

“Right.”  It may have been Kraglin’s imagination, but it seemed that last one was thrown with extra force.  It was a perfect shot, hitting Yondu right between the eyes.

 

“Ow!”

 

“Now, clean up your mess and introduce your friend.”

 

“He ain’t my friend, he’s my hostage.” Yondu grumbled as he retrieved his treasures from the floor.

 

Whiskey gave Kraglin a hard look.  “He’s too skinny to be dinner.  You’ll have to fatten him up some first.  What’s your name, String Bean?”

 

Kraglin could absolutely believe this woman had raised the asshole he had just broke out of the slam with. “Kraglin Obfonteri, ma’am,” he replied, deferentially.

 

“Whatcha do, Kraglin Obfonteri?”

 

“I is a mechanic, ma’am.”

 

“Ya any good?”

 

Kraglin shrugged, “Not bad.”

 

“Think you can demagnetize the biogenic power converter while you’re on board?”

 

Kraglin gaped at her. “Ma’am?  Biogenic power converters aren’t standard on M-class ships, but if you have managed to adapt one to fit, you is a better mechanic than I am.  Either way, they ain’t magnetic.”

 

Whiskey grinned at him, put the ship on autopilot and climbed out of her chair. “This way, Weed.”  And with that, Whiskey took Kraglin below deck to show him her biogenic power converter.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments please


	3. The Mechanic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being used as a human shield during Yondu’s escape, Kraglin fast talks his way into a mechanic job on the Eclector

“We can’t get the parts, so everything we fly is some mish mash of cannibalized ships.  We figure out how to make em work.  And even then we always have problems with orloni chewing through the wires and snails congregating on the parabolic resonance coil.”  Whiskey explained as she lead the way to the engine room.

 

Kraglin nodded.  “Kalicinite wash.”

 

“What?” Whiskey was confused.

 

“Keeps the snails down,” Kraglin replied.  “The little bastards get everywhere.”

 

“Huh.”  Whiskey thought for a moment.  “What concentration?”

 

“Depends,  If you want to spray it, say, one part Kalicinite to five parts Hydrogen Hydroxide.  Generally, I just go with a straight up dusting method. Lay down a trail around the engine room and sprinkle some on the coils, they fizz up as soon as they hit it.”

 

“Huh.  Where you work, Kraglin?  Before you got busted?”

 

“I was taking whatever jobs I could get.  Last one ended at Atraxi and I wasn’t -” Kraglin hesitated.  You heard stories about Ravagers.  It might not be advisable to be making disparaging remarks about drug runners. “-able to find my next berth ‘fore I got picked up.”

 

Whiskey snorted.  “No one warned you about the food laws?”

 

“No, ma’am.” 

 

“Who’d you work for last?”

 

“Capt’n Soren.  He said he’d give me a good reference, if I ever needed it.”

 

Whiskey laughed.  “He wouldn’t even take our call.”  She gave him a hard look.  “How old are you?”

 

“Twenty-five.”

 

Whiskey frowned, “Don’t you ever lie to me again.  How old are you, Kraglin Obfonteri?”

 

“Nineteen, ma’am.”

 

“Well, we are two days out from our home ship.  Make yourself useful and I’ll add you to my crew.”

 

“Sure thing, Captain.”

 

Whiskey shook her head.  “My boy up there is the Captain.  I’m head of maintenance.  This is me offering you a job, not him.”

 

Kraglin wondered if that was good or bad.  “Yes, ma’am.”

 

“Call me Whiskey.  Everyone does.”

 

\---

 

Kraglin spend the next two days feeling as much like an exterminator as a mechanic.  Still, they hadn’t spaced him yet.  The food wasn’t great but the protein was better than prison.  It weren’t cow.  It had the slightly oily texture of eating carnivore.  Kraglin decided to not ask too many questions about that.  It was better than ration bars or orloni, which was standard fare for down and out spacers.

 

Whiskey watched him carefully, while he was working.  Occasionally she would give him a pointer or redirect him to another project, but mostly she just told him what to do and expected him to do it.  He could live with that.  The first job he took, the chief maintenance officer had been the micromanaging type.  It had made everyone annoyed.  Whiskey was the polar opposite.  She gave him a job and let him do it, then checked his work after it was completed.  He wasn’t working on any critical systems, but still, it indicated a certain level of trust.

 

Or maybe not.  Maybe she was just counting on him not sabotaging the ship he was on.

 

He had his own room, with his own chem shower and everything.  They still locked him in at night, but he could understand that.  Given the choice, he wouldn’t be riding on a ship piloted by strangers headed for he didn’t know where.

 

Yondu, on the other hand, spent a fair amount of time staring at him.  Pretty much any time they was in a room together.  It was awkward enough before Whiskey caught him doing it.

 

“He’s off limits, Yondu. He’s mine.  For now at least.”

 

What the flarg did that mean?  Blue bastard had some nasty looking teeth.  Kraglin wasn’t convinced he was off the menu, yet.  Keep your head down, concentrate on the job seemed to still be working.  

 

Fixing ship was more entertaining than housekeeping at any rate.  Plus he was learning a lot from Whiskey.  The Ravager motto, as near as he could tell, seemed to be “If the part don’t fit, figure it out.”  There was more random junk working together to keep the ship flying than Kraglin could have imagined was possible.  Everything looked grungy, rusty and dirty, which was a relief after months of nothing but white.  However, on second inspection, it turned out that was because everything was held together by three parts genius and one part sheer bloody mindedness.

 

When Whiskey, or rarely Yondu, explained how things worked, he could absolutely see how it did.  But they were using parts in ways the inventors had never intended.

 

The second day, they were walking through the nav room when Kraglin stopped suddenly.  He asked, “Is that a multitronic array?”

 

Yondu turned to stare at him, then he looked where Kraglin was pointing.  “Yup.”

 

“That’s … that’s an antique is what that is.  What’s it doing here?”

 

Yondu frowned.  Whiskey laughed, “Detecting the trionic wave signatures of passing ships.”

 

Kraglin felt like his brain had just exploded.  “Holy shit!  If you reverse the zero point module, that would totally work!”

 

Whiskey grinned and slapped him on the back.  “We’ll make a Wrench out of you yet, String Bean.”

 

Eventually, a city ship came into view.  Kraglin was not expecting that.  Somehow, he had been under the impression that they would have an abandoned space station somewhere.  Or a old style moon base.  But with a Galleon like that, the Ravagers could take their business anywhere.

 

“Woah.” It just kinda slipped out, but Whiskey and Yondu both smirked.

 

“Welcome to the Eclector, String bean.”

 

“Aw, thanks, Whiskey.”

 

“This is my M-class.  You can stay in your room on her.  I live on the Elector with my partner, so you will have some privacy.  We’ll get you outfitted soon enough.  You won’t get the Reds until we are sure we’re keepin you, but we should be able to find you a change of clothes at least.”

 

After they docked, a group of crew turned up and was waiting for them to disembark.  Whiskey all but ran down the gang plank and flung herself at a younger man with dreads and scars on his face.  He grinned as he caught her, then kissed her soundly.     
  


“Welcome home, love.”

 

“I’m looking forward to you welcoming me home, but I gotta show my newest team member around.” She stopped and looked at Kraglin, “Bean!  Come meet my partner!  Tullk, this is Kraglin. Kraglin, meet -” and here she pointed to the assembled crew in turn, “Winch, he’s my second in command.  Ch’kore, Narblik, and Scrote.”

 

Kraglin stared at the Monstrous before remembering himself and looking away.

 

To his horror, the big guy rumbled then said.  “I’ll give him the tour, Whiskey.  You go make Tullk happy.  He’s been useless since you’ve been gone.”

 

Whiskey grinned and tangled her fingers in Tullk’s as they wandered off.

 

Winch looked down at Kraglin and sniffed.  “You need to eat first.  Tour can wait.”

 

\----

 

The Eclector was a big ship.  Kraglin could see where it was going to take him awhile to figure out where he was going.  Winch wasn't much of a talker.  The mess hall was just that: a big messy hall.  But there was food, served cafeteria style.  Kraglin was given a bowl of basic rations.  It was about par with the prison food.  Winch explained that he could pay for upgraded food, if he wanted to, once he was working.  Then he pulled a doo-dad out of his pocket and scanned Kraglin’s palm print.

 

“Huh.  You already have units. Some from Atraxi, some from Captain Soren and two days for working for Whiskey.”  Winch read more carefully, “What you do to earn 40,000 units for ‘special services to Captain Udonta’?”

 

The surrounding tables all went quiet.

 

Kraglin ignored that, “I helped him break out of prison.” 

 

The guy sitting across from him asked, “How’d that work?”

 

Kraglin finished chewing as he thought fast, what he had actually done wasn’t nearly as heroic as that first line sounded.  “You can ask him.  I don’t go gossipping about the Captain. Whatever he tells you happened, that’s what happened.”

 

Winch nodded approvingly. “You’ll do.  What sort of work are you looking for, Bean?”

 

Kraglin shrugged.  “I’m a mechanic.  I can do maintenance on Xandar stand ships.  Whiskey’s ship sure as hell isn’t Xandarian standard.  I wanna learn ‘bout that.”

 

Now everyone had a story.  People wanted to tell Kraglin about the time they hot wired the coulter bypass on a l-ship with a paperclip.  Or the time they had to figure out how to bypass the tac-relay mid dogfight with a Kree fighter.  Or about when their graphene resistance terminal de-optimized halfway through a jump point.

 

Although, Kraglin was pretty sure that last one was pulling his leg,  “Right!  And how did you keep the hull from collapsing?”

 

Everyone in the table laughed.  The guy telling the story hesitated for a moment, then joined in.

 

At any rate, once Whiskey’s crew understood they had someone to talk tech with, Kraglin settled in just fine.  

 


	4. The Kid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kraglin meets Peter. Peter is a little shit. The crew is amused

Kraglin was assigned to a team with the other new guy, Dav.

 

“It’s pronounced ‘Dave.” Dave said.

 

“What kinda name is Dave?” Kraglin demanded.

 

“What kind of name is Bean?” Dave replied.

 

“My name isn’t Bean, it’s Kraglin.”

 

“Yeah, like that’s any better.  What you do, KRAGLIN?”

 

“I’m a mechanic, DAVE. How ‘bout you?”

 

“I’m a pilot.  I’m the best pilot on this boat.”

 

“Really.”

 

“Yup.  I have a biological advantage.”

 

“So why you assigned to mechanical, then?”

 

“Two reasons.  I can’t read, so I learn about ships from watching.”

 

“Is that one reason, or two?”

 

Now Dave sighed and looked slightly uncomfortable.  “Um…” He mumbled something quietly.

 

“What was that?” Kraglin asked.

 

“He’s a nudist and the boss doesn’t want him walking around with no pants.” Halfnut added with a giggle.

 

Kraglin looked between the two men, trying to see if they were serious.  It would appear so.  “That a religious thing?”

 

“No!” snapped Dave.  “I have a lot of body hair and I get too hot with clothes on top of that.  If I had evolved to wear clothes, my hair wouldn’t be so damn nice.”

 

Nekkass was walking past, “Your species does have some very nice hair.  My brother in law is one of you.  Sluffonn loves running her hands through Ch’Kore’s fur.”

 

Dave perked up, “Is he part of this clan?”

 

Suddenly, everyone was looking at the floor.  Nekkass shook her head, sadly.  “He and my sister stayed with The Ogords when the clans split.”

 

“But you didn’t?” Dave asked.

 

Nekkass looked hard at him.  “No!  I don’t agree with Admiral Ogord!  We did the right thing keeping that-”

 

Winch cleared his throat with a deep rumble.  “We don’t talk about that.  You all have work to do.  Off you go.”

 

As Kraglin and Halfnut were degreasing a molecular shock centrifuge, Halfnut explained, “Winch only just got promoted.  He’s still trying to throw his weight around.  Whiskey’s still in charge, but she’s like sixty now and it’s only a matter of time.  No one wants to say that, though.  We’re all afraid we’ll lose Tullk when she goes.  He only took our side because she’s so damn loyal to Udonta.”

 

“Well,” Kraglin reasoned, “She is his mom.”

 

Halfnut shook his head.  “Nope!  Udonta was a Kree battle slave.  He was raised in a creche.  Whiskey was his … nurse, I guess?  Something like that.  She took care of him until he was old enough to learn to fight.  They both ended up on a slaver Tullk raided about twenty years ago.  He kept her and Udonta was part of the deal.”

 

Suddenly, Kraglin was paying really close attention.  “I didn’t know Ravagers kept slaves.”

 

“We don’t.  From what I understand, they stayed as, like, refugees or something.” Halfnut considered.  “Don’t go asking too many questions, Udonta gets a little sensitive about that.” Halfnut adjusted the crotch of his pants as considered this some more.  “Aw, hell, Yondu Udonta gets a little sensitive about everything.  And by sensitive, I mean stabby.  It’s great when he turns on a client or a target, but not so good when it’s you or one of your friends.”

 

Supper wasn’t anything special but Halfnut helped Kraglin set up a kitchen account to add protein to his meals.  Whiskey came over and sat next to them.  “How you settling in, Sprout?”

 

Kraglin shrugged,  Winch rumbled, “He’s doing good, Boss.”

 

Whiskey nodded, “Can you get him to paint that ship next?  It’s going to take a couple of weeks.  He can start buffing off the rust and it can be his project until it’s done.  It’ll let him settle in some before we start overwhelming him with other projects.”

 

“You sure the captain’s gonna like that, Whiskey?” Halfnut asked.

 

“It isn’t his team, it isn’t his decision.” Whiskey said firmly.

 

“Sure thing, Boss.” Winch replied.

 

Kraglin was a little disappointed in that.  Painting didn’t seem like very much fun.  

 

Winch took him around.  Showed him where the water showers were.  Carefully introduced him to the moonshiner.  Explained they they tried not to have anything stronger than that on board.

 

Kraglin thought back to how he met Yondu.  “Is the Captain much of a boozer?”

 

Winch shook his head.  “Never seen him drunk.  Captain Udonta is too much about maintaining control to ever really hit the sauce.”

 

“Huh.”  Kraglin wondered what had driven him to drink on Atraxi.

 

\----

 

The next morning, Kraglin hadn’t even started painting yet and he hated this job.  He had to scrape rust off most of the hull on this junk heap.  Then he had to weld on repair plates and sand everything smooth.  He had been working all afternoon and he only had one part of one wing done.  He hoped Whiskey wasn’t too attached to the idea that this bird would be up and flying again by the week after next.

 

“Hey! What are you doing to my ship, A-hole?”

 

Kraglin frowned.  Who the flarg said ‘a-hole’?  He leaned over and looked.  The person talking to him was either from some squeaky short race or just a kid.  Kraglin decided to provisionally go with the first option.  He was new; he didn’t know who he shouldn’t be pissing off yet.

 

“I’m cleaning off the rust and repairing the hull.”  Kraglin said simply.

 

“I din’t tell you to do that!”

 

Kraglin frowned.  “Whiskey did.  You’ll have to take it up with her.”

 

The little guy turned and stomped off.

 

Kraglin rolled his eyes and went back to his sander.

 

\----

 

Kraglin was sprawled out on the wing, trying to get a grungy rivet out when he heard the .. yup, had to be a kid.  No grown man would be whining like that.  

 

“C’mon, Whiskey!  It’s my ship!  You gotta let me take care of it!”

 

“Peter, when you can lift the repair panels, then we’ll talk.  In the meantime, I’m having someone else clean up your mess.  I honestly don’t know what you were thinking flying through the acid rings of Trelos.”

 

“That was awesome!”

 

“That ate your hull!  Now I have to get the poor new guy to fix it.  So, say thank you and stay out of trouble.”

 

Kraglin heard the kid stomp off.  After a moment, Whiskey crawled up to join him.  “Sorry about that.”

 

Kraglin shrugged, “It’s alright.  Din’t know there were kids on board, tho.”

 

Whiskey frowned.  “Is that going to be a problem?”

 

Kraglin sighed.  “He’s pissed off that I’m fixing his ship.  I’m not looking for trouble.  Can you say the same thing about him?”

 

She was not reassured by that.  “I’ll try to keep him in check.  I should have warned you.  You aren’t the only one sleeping safe on a ship.”

 

“Kid sleeps on a ship?  Who takes care of him?”

 

Whiskey shook her head.  “No one.  He’s got the whole thing to himself.  Keeps him out of the crew’s way.”

 

“Don’t the little gaffer get lonely?” Kraglin asked, thinking about the Atraxi’s comment about solitary confinement.

 

“Of course he does!  But it keeps him safe.”  Whiskey narrowed her eyes, “It’s important to me, Kraglin, that the boy stays safe, you understand?”

 

“Yes, Ma’am.”

 

\----

 

That night, once Kraglin was tucked in on Whiskey’s ship, someone hacked the intercom and started blaring noise in a language he didn’t understand.  It might almost have been music, except the Ooga-Chucka wasn’t exactly melodic.

 

Kraglin tried turning it off and when that didn’t work, he cut the speaker wires to his room and slept with his head under his pillow.

 

\----

 

When he mentioned it the next morning at breakfast, his whole table started to sing along with the alleged song.  That’s when Kraglin realized this was some sort of hazing thing.  Fine.  He could take it.

 

Then his tool box went missing.

 

Then someone turned on the fire alarm directly over his head.

 

Then someone greased the wing he was working on and he slipped off.  Winch walked him to sick bay where he met Doc Mijo, who frowned and injected his arm full of bone mend after pulling his wrist straight.  She insisted he take the rest of the day off, so Kraglin headed back to his room on Whiskey’s ship to try to catch up on his sleep.

 

Someone dusted his sheets with itching powder.  The flight deck crew all laughed as he scratched his way back to sick bay.

 

By the time Doc Mijo got the itching powder off of him, Kraglin had first degree chemical burns.

 

The Doc just sighed then called in Whiskey and Winch and had a quiet discussion about Kraglin’s accidents.  She insisted he spend the night in sick bay and continue to earn until the burns and his wrist healed all the way.

 

Kraglin didn’t say anything, but Winch and Whiskey exchanged A Look.

 

Then Whiskey sighed.  “I’ll go make arrangements to have your room cleaned, Kraglin.  I am very sorry this happened.”

 

Kraglin nodded.

 

Whiskey left.

 

Winch rumbled at the Doc, “Can I take him to the water showers and get him some new clothes?”

 

Mijo shrugged, then nodded.  “Make sure he doesn’t have any other accidents, Winch.”

 

Winch gritted his teeth, but nodded.

 

As they were walking to the showers, Kraglin asked, “So how often does this ship make port?”

 

Winch understood what was being said, but just answered the question.  “We have a pleasure stop scheduled for next week.”

 

 


	5. The Explanation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winch intercedes and explains about Peter having a special place in Yondu’s heart.

Yondu was not having a great day.  His first mate was getting ideas above his station and Yondu wasn’t looking forward to having to space the bastard.  He had settled on just whistling his arrow through Vorker’s eye.  Doc could install a new one in a couple of days.

 

In the meantime, there was splatter that had to be washed off.  Whiskey had a thing about them going to supper bloody. Yondu randomly picked a shower room half way between the bridge and the mess hall.  The only one in there was his hostage.  Yondu ignored him and stripped down.  He was soaping his chest when he looked over and noticed the kid looked a lot more pink than he remembered.

 

Ignoring the basic manners of public showers, he frowned and looked harder.  He didn’t remember the kid being covered in tiny blisters either.

 

“What the hell happened to you?”

 

Kraglin looked over his shoulder, then jerked his eyes front.  “Housekeeping accident, Sir.”

 

Yondu considered this whole sentence, trying not to focus on how nice the ‘Sir’ sounded.  He got Captain (or at least Cap’n) or Boss all the time, but no one called him sir.  Stakar had gotten sir.

 

“What kinda housekeeping accident?”

 

Kraglin hesitated, he wasn’t a rat.  He went with, “Winch is taking care of it, Sir.”

 

“Hmm.” Yondu was absolutely just considering the extent of the burns.  He certainly was not checking out the guy’s ass in the shower.  Not when the kid was almost half his age.  Flarg!  The kid was only a few years older than Pete!

 

He hadn’t really thought about any of that when he dragged the String Bean along for his escape.  He was just thinking: Escape!  But he had a type and Whiskey knew it was scrawny and competent.  That was why she had insisted the kid worked for her and her department and not part of the over all crew.

 

Shit.  He weren’t that hard up.  Muria was only a week away.

 

And it meant absolutely nothing that after Winch had turned up to collect the kid from the showers that Yondu had locked the door and taken some alone time.

 

\----

 

Whiskey made Peter clean out her ship.

 

“You don’t know it was me!” Pete said as he pulled on gloves and a biohazard suit to strip the bed.

 

“Don’t give me that! You’re the only one who has had any complaints about Kraglin.” She sighed and went for hurt, crossing her arms and looking sadly at him  “Peter, this is my ship.  He is my guest.  You sabotaged my ship and injured my guest.  Do you have any idea how disappointed I am?  How could you do that to me?”

 

Peter groaned.  “I didn’t do it to you!” he said, bagging the sheets and the pillow and the floor mat.

 

Whiskey narrowed her eyes and stared at him.  He broke out the neutralizing agent and sprayed the floors. And walls.  And the ceiling.

 

“OK, OK! So, maybe I did it to him.  But that’s just because he was being a jerk!”

 

“How was he being a jerk Peter?”  Whiskey asked.  “I’m the one who told him to repair your hull.  He was just doing his job.  You broke his arm and burned his skin!  Who exactly is the jerk in that situation?”

 

“Whiskey!  I’m just defending my ship.” Peter said as he carried the bag of sheets to the washer.

 

“By attacking mine?” Whiskey asked, following him.

 

Peter put everything that was in the bag into the washer before adding the biohazard suit and turning it on.  “I wasn’t thinking of it like that.”

 

Whiskey just kept looking at him. “OK, so I wasn’t really thinking about the bigger picture.” Peter finished.

 

Whiskey nodded.  “Some day you will have your own team, your own crew, your own family.  You will need to think about how to keep them all working together.  For now, that is my job. So, once Kraglin is able to return to work, you are going to help him.” She paused and gave Peter a knowing look, “Which is to say, he will be your boss until the ship repairs are done.  At which point I will decide which of you gets to use that ship and which of you will be my guest.  Do you understand?”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” came the sullen reply.

 

\----

 

Winch had found Kraglin a clean uniform.  He figured the kid had earned his reds all in one go for not immediately hunting down the pup and tossing him in his own itching powder.  Not that Winch would have blamed him, looking at those blisters.

 

Then he led the boy to the mess hall and got him a bowl of a bowl of avian soup.   The found a quiet table in the back.

 

He rumbled at Kraglin as he thought about how to put this next bit.  “We don’t transport pups.  Anymore.  Captain did, at one point and the kid, Peter, is the leftover one from that time.  Captain and the Boss keep him around as …  a pet?  A mascot?  I’m not sure what to call it.  A Favourite.  He is small, good at getting into tight places to steal stuff.  We are Ravagers and that makes us thieves.”

 

Kraglin frowned into his soup and stirred the noodles in the bottom of his bowl.

 

Winch sighed, “But that doesn’t mean he’s allowed to hurt the crew.  He is being punished.  Boss will make sure it don’t happen again.”

 

“You just said he was the Boss’s pet.” Kraglin sulked.

 

Winch looked hard at Kraglin.  “Yeah, but Whiskey likes you too.”

 

Kraglin snorted.  “When she offered me the job, I weren’t ‘xpectin’ to be doing hull maintenance and paint.”

 

Winch gave him a hard look.  “Be smart.  Why would she have you do that?”

 

Kraglin considered this.  “It’s boring?”

 

Winch laughed.  “And what else?”

 

Kraglin tried to think.  Hull repair was painstaking and … “She wants to see if I cut corners or do sloppy work when it’s gonna be under the paint anyway.”

 

Winch nodded approvingly.  “Pete’s been here nearly six years now.  He knows his way around.  Knows all the crew.  Knows how to hide from all the crew.  Nearly ended up as dinner a dozen times, but he keeps being able to figure his way out of trouble.  That’s valuable.  Some of the crew is too stupid to understand that, but it’s true.”  Winch thought for an extra moment.  “Mind you, some of the crew left families behind when they signed up.  Having a junior crew member makes them feel like this is their family.  Even when the Captain ain’t exactly the most parental figure, Whiskey is always everyone’s mom.  She keeps us from falling down too far.  Crew gotta have her approval to stay on.”

 

Kraglin concentrated on his soup.  He wasn’t planning on staying.  This wasn’t a job he had volunteered for.  Still, he could work to the next port and move on.  If they actually paid him, great, and if not… well, he wasn’t ever going back to Atrax.

 

Winch seemed to read his mind.  “We pay well, and you work well.  Whiskey likes you.  If you can ignore the kid, this is a pretty good job.  Captain don’t use chem restraints on us.  Anyone caught endangering the ship gets tossed.  Repairs don’t always look pretty, but they always get done.  We get regular R&R stops.  And no one is gonna jump you in the shower.   On the other hand, if you is polite, no one’s gonna get mad if you proposition them.  Same thing goes if you turn them down.  Only rule is, you ask up the chain of command.  That way no one has to worry about being given bog duty if they turn down their boss.”

 

Kraglin didn’t say anything as he slurped up the last of his noodles.  He knew full well that this could easily translate into ‘you get bog duty until you proposition your boss.’  On the other hand, his boss was Whiskey and he rather doubted he was her type.  She seemed way too enthralled with the man who was waiting for her when they docked.   Which was only fair, she weren’t his type either.

 

Actually, considering the crew he had met so far, it was looking like Kraglin would be staying faithful to Mrs Palm for the foreseeable future.  He had a type, he hadn’t found it on the Eclector yet.  Sure there was some eye candy hanging around, but so far most of them made him want to break their teeth. Kraglin needed someone he could laugh with.  Most of these bastards were too stupid to get the joke.  He needed someone he could respect, and there wasn’t a lot of that around either.

 

He had figured out a long time ago, if he was just looking for a warm body to bump up against, he was better off taking care of things himself.  The last thing you wanted in a confined space was a crew member gossipping about your sex habits.  It din’t matter if they had falled hard or were dissatisfied.  Either way made trouble.

 

No, thought Kraglin, the best thing to do was to keep his head down, keep it in his pants, and just hang in there until he could desert.  He could hang in there until next week.

 

 


	6. The Arrangement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winch and Yondu talk about Kraglin. Winch wants to keep him. Needs Yondu to get Peter under control or make Kraglin ok with the situation.

Winch watched Kraglin eating his soup.  From what he had seen the kid had reasonable talent.  He had impressed Whiskey in the two days on her ship and that was saying something.  The kid had a snarky sense of humour that Winch quite enjoyed.  He could wait until the first time the Captain hit the kid with a verbal jab.  Winch was confident Kraglin would be up to the verbal sparring.

 

In just as appalling of an accent as Yondu employed.  Captain used it to make marks and clients underestimate him.  It was a carefully constructed thing.  Kraglin just talked like that.  The kid was clearly one of the sharper knives in the drawer, but you wouldn’t immediately guess that based on his grammar.

 

No.  You had to watch the kid pick up a wrench to see that.  Winch had seen mechanics throw up their hands in disgust, drink themselves into a coma and get off the ship at the very next port.  Kraglin looked at the exact same modification and grinned.

 

“That is flarging amazing!” was his reply.

 

Winch liked that.

 

Kraglin was only a standard day out of the med bay and he was right back at it, carefully repairing the M-classes hull.  His welds were neat.  He was thorough with his sanding.  He was diligent at make certain he wasn’t missing any corrosion.  He was ignoring Yondu.

 

That said something in and of itself.  The Captain was walking over the wing, huffing to himself and scuffing his toe on the bird.  Peter was watching him anxiously.  Kraglin was ignoring him.

 

“How’s it going, string bean?”

 

Kraglin turned off the torch and pushed up his goggles.  “Peachy.” he said flatly.

 

“No more house keeping accidents?”

 

Kraglin turned back to his work and resolutely did not look at Peter. “No sir.”

 

However, both Peter and Winch noticed the funny look that passed over their captain’s face.  Neither of them were stupid enough to comment.

 

“So, what’s the plan here?”  Yondu asked, looking for reasons to stick around.

 

“Gotta sand off all the corrosion, sir.  Honestly, sir, I don’t know how it got this bad.  It’s like someone flew her through acid rings or something.  Once that’s done, then I gotta weld on replacement panels where needed, which is almost everywhere.  Then I gotta sand down the welds and buff the seams.  Then priming, curing and painting.  With just one person workin on her-”

 

“Hey!” interrupted Peter.  “I’m helping!”

 

Kraglin ignored him and continued, “- we’re looking at a good couple hundred days.  Really, sir, you either need to get more welders on this or sell it for scrap.  By the time I’m done, working on my own, you’ll need to flush and reseed the air and water filtration.  That’s gonna be at least twenty thousand units… unless you have a work around for that too.”

 

Yondu cleared his throat.  “Not as far as I know.”  He frowned at Peter.  “Guy who owns this rust bucket ain’t exactly a crew favourite.  Ain’t gonna get another welder to work on it.”

 

Kraglin cleared his throat.  “I’m guessing your hotshot pilot ain’t no mechanic.  If he were, he woulda known better ‘en letting her get this rough.”

 

Yondu nodded.  “Guy’s a bit of a jack ass.”

 

Peter glared at him.

 

Yondu watched Kraglin work some more.  “What you got the kid doing?”

 

“Well, sir, I asked him to sand off that piece of corrosion over there.” Kraglin pointed to a patch of rust with a few scrubs through it, but nowhere near enough.  Kraglin didn’t add that the kid had worked for about two minutes before he started whining and another three before he gave up and flopped over.

 

Yondu wandered over to look at the indicated spot.  Then he cuffed Peter across the back of his neck.  “Back to work kid.”  Peter grumbled for a moment, but picked up his sander.  Yondu pulled off his long coat and his short coat and rolled up his sleeves.  “Winch!  Toss up another sander, will ya?”

 

Winch wandered off and came back with a sander.  And Whiskey.

 

“What are you doing, Yondu?” she asked.

 

“We’re just drifting now, won’t need me on the bridge for a few hours.  Gonna help with sanding.” He replied.

 

Whiskey frowned at him.  “You aren’t a welder.”

 

“Nah.  But I can sand.  And I can keep Pete on task.  Free up Kraglin to weld.”

 

Whiskey narrowed her eyes, then left without saying anything.  Over the next twenty minutes, however, crew started turning up with sanders and suddenly there was more than enough help to clear the corrosion.

 

Kraglin felt a bit self conscious that the Captain somehow always managed to be the crew member closest to him when he looked up.  He hoped it was just that the big blue guy was checking his work and not that he was protecting him from the crew.  Just ‘cuz Winch said he wasn’t going to get jumped in the shower din’t mean the crew were friendly.  They seemed fine enough, but Whiskey had been keeping him a little isolated and now the Captain was physically put hisself between Kraglin and the crew.  That din’t seem like a good sign.

 

Someone handed him the next patch to weld.  Kraglin looked up into a pair of pink eyes.  Captain Udonta had goggles on his forehead.

 

“Give the kid a moment to make sure everyone has eye gear on, will ya.”

 

Kraglin nodded. “Yes, sir.”  Yondu was watching him carefully.  It was a bit unnerving.

 

The Captain licked his lips before adding, “Whiskey found you another welder, so don’t be taking your goggles off when yur done.  You know how to make ‘em more clear?”

 

Kraglin repressed the urge to roll his eyes.  What kinda half assed mech did this guy think he was?  Still, snarking at the Captain wasn’t a long term survival strategy, so all he said was, “Yes, sir.”

 

The kid ran over, “OK Yondu, everyone has their goggles on.”

 

Kraglin pulled his into place and waited.

 

After a moment of awkward silence, Captain Udonta put his on as well and stood back to watch Kraglin work.  Flarg.  That was not any more comfortable.  Kraglin tried to concentrate on his work.  This was obviously a test.  And he was gonna pass, whether or not he stayed on the ship, he wasn’t going to be intimidated by a bunch of Ravagers.

 

\----

 

Yondu’s knees hurt and his back was stiff.  Among other things.  Still, they had made noticeable progress on the kid’s ship.  New kid had tried teaching Dave to weld.  That had been funny.  Welding wasn’t inherently compatible with a full body pelt that was four inches long.  

 

He had to give the kid credit, though, String Bean was a surprisingly patient teacher.  Dave weren’t ever gonna be a master welder, but minor repairs like this…  That were within reach for the guy.

 

At any rate, Yondu was on his way back to his cabin when he was intercepted by Winch.  Yondu was not in the mood and was about to send him packing when Whiskey stepped out of the monstrous shadow.  Flarg.  When she made a point of tracking him down, she weren’t gonna take no for an answer.  Yondu groaned.

 

“Conference table in your quarters?” Whiskey suggested.

 

“Fine.” Yondu grumbled.

 

Whiskey shovelled the dirty laundry off of the table and chairs.  “If you aren’t going to clean up after yourself, then you gotta let housekeeping in to do it.”

 

“That’s what you needed to tell me?” Yondu asked.

 

He and Whiskey glared at each other.  Whiskey smirked. It was a friendly sort of argument that they had been having for more than twenty years.  Looking around, Yondu could see that it was time to do laundry, but damned if he was gonna admit that, not after she had raised the issue.

 

Winch felt the need to get to the point.  The chairs weren’t that comfortable.  Neither were the smells in this room.  “Kraglin is a good fit for the crew.”

 

Yondu nodded and looked at Whiskey.

 

She nodded as well, “I agree.”

 

“Ok, so done.” Yondu said.  “You can leave now.”

 

Neither of them moved.  “Peter basically tortured the boy and is still being a little shit.  He keeps insinuating that Kraglin is stupid every time the kid doesn’t know where something is or how it works.  The sort of stuff that any new crew member needs to learn.  But Kraglin isn’t that much older or that much bigger that Pete so he keeps pushing Kraglin.  I can’t see Kraglin taking a swing at the kid, but…” Whiskey trailed off.

 

“But we can see him not getting back on the ship after the next stop.” Winch finished.

 

Whiskey nodded.  “I was fine with you letting the boy run wild when no one was getting hurt.  But now people are getting hurt.  If we move him onto my ship, Tullk and I can keep an eye on him.  The wreck can go to Kraglin as a signing bonus.”

 

Winch nodded.  “Trashing a ship proved the pup isn’t ready for his own ship.”

 

Yondu scrubbed his eyes.  “That ship is the easiest one to fly that we got.  We give it to String Bean, Pete’s gonna need to start over on the flight training.”

 

“How is that a bad thing?” Whiskey asked.

 

Yondu considered that.

 

Winch cleared his throat.  “It’s bad because when he gets a ship, any ship, it will be bigger and better than Kraglin’s and that will disrupt the hierarchy we want to establish.  It would be better to spend the months repairing the wreck and deduct the cost from the pup’s share of the take.  That is the natural consequences of what he did.  That is the better way to learn.”

 

Whiskey thought about this.  “Fine. But you will need to get Kraglin a better ship than the wreck.”  She thought for another moment.  “And leaving Peter in fear that we are pulling his ship for a few weeks won’t be a bad thing either.”

 

Now it was Yondu’s turn to disagree.  “Yur worried Obfonteri is going to run?  How is giving him his own ship gonna help with that?  Nah.  Offer him the downpayment on a ship if he sticks it out for a year.”

 

Winch nodded, “Still a better offer than most of the crew get, but he’s a better mechanic than most of them.”

 

Yondu glared at them.  “We done here?”

 

Whiskey shook her head.  “You gotta talk to Andrei.  He’s getting too old to fighter pilot.  His reaction time isn’t fast enough and he’s gonna get hurt if he keeps this up.”

 

Now Yondu put his foot down.  “No!  The man is a warrior.  If he goes down with his ship, so be it.”

 

Both Whiskey and Winch frowned at that.  It was Whiskey raised the point.  “Yondu, we don’t have enough ships to sacrifice one.”  She thought for a moment, “If you make Kraglin his co-pilot, it would be a good way to transition his ship to a younger crew member.”

 

Winch nodded his agreement.  “It would also be a good way to get the new person integrated into the crew.”

 

Yondu took a moment to think about that.  Andrei wouldn’t go patronizing the kid the way he did the females on the ship.  He also wouldn’t go flirting with the kid.  That just baffled Yondu.  The man treated women like he wished they would leave and not come back.  No respect, no acknowledging their abilities, just flat out contempt.  The sort of thing that would drive off any mate.  And yet, he also didn’t approve of males who have sex with other males.  That guy had issues.

 

But they were Andrei’s issues and Yondu wasn’t above exploiting them for his own advantage.

 

“That’s an excellent idea!  I’m glad I thought of it!”

 

Whiskey and Winch shared a look.

 

“Anything else, or can I finally have some peace and quiet?”

 

That was the wrong thing to say because now Whiskey was giving him a knowing smirk.  But she and Winch left without further comment.

  
About bloody well time.    


 

 


	7. The Discussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yondu tries to talk to Pete. Reminds him of eat you thing. Does not go well

Yondu wasn’t looking forward to this next bit.  But it had been two days and Whiskey’s pointed looks had evolved to her smacking the back of his head in the mess hall this morning.  That weren’t good for putting the crew in fear of him.  The problem was anytime Yondu tried to talk to Pete the kid would get mad and sass him, talking about how he had been kidnapped.

 

Kid didn’t listen.

 

Then Yondu would get pissed and threaten to eat him.

 

Then it all just broke down.

 

He had used that threat too often for it to be effective anymore.  Hell, it weren’t a dynamic he wanted, but they seemed helpless to change it.  Falling into the routine the same way Whiskey was still trying to get him to clean his room, even though he was the Captain of his own fleet.

 

No.  This time it would be different.  He would talk to the boy like the adult he was becoming and, hopeful the kid would actually listen to what he were saying.

 

This plan was not helped by what he found when he arrived in the hanger.

 

“Flarg off A-hole!  Don’t tell me what to do!  I’ve been flying this rig since I was eleven!” Peter was screaming, red faces, hands balled into fists at his sides.

 

“Oh, yeah, half pint?  What are you now?  Twelve?” Kraglin sneered.

 

Peter was deeply offended.  “No, you jerk!  I’m nearly fourteen!” His declarations of indignation were not helped by his voice squeaking out the first sentence, then cracking on the second half.

 

“Whatever, kid, I’m not teaching you to weld until Whiskey says so.” Kraglin kept the grin on the inside, knowing that a dismissive tone would rile the kid up even further.  Take that, Brisea!  Ha!  He had learned something from having all those older sisters.

 

Yondu watched Quill try to figure out how to take a swing at Kraglin without getting his ass kicked.   It was way past time for him to intervene.  “Pete!  Get your scrawny little pink ass down here!  Now, boy!”

 

Peter looked guilty as he climbed off the ship’s nose.

 

Yondu grabbed the kid by the collar of his coat and hauled him back to Whiskey’s office.  Once there, he flung the kid into one of the chairs on this side of the desk and locked the door before turning to face him.  “Wanna tell me what that was all about?” he demanded, leaning against the door frame.

 

Peter hung his head. “Nothing, Yondu.”

 

Yondu glared at him.  “Kraglin is more useful ‘round here than you.  Don’t go messing with the real crew members boy.”

 

That was the wrong thing to say, because now Peter was glaring at him with balled fists.  “I am a real crew member!  My take was 60,000 units last year.  I am earning better than that… that… STRING BEAN is!”

 

Yondu sighed.  There went his favourite nickname for the guy.  If Pete were using it, it was time to make it stop.  “Listen half stack, you do not get to talk to people like that.  Not when they can smush you without even tryin’. Yeah, I do it, but I ain’t on the menu.”

 

That was the wrong thing to say.  Peter just shut down.  “I’m not either.” He said quietly.  “You keep sayin’ that, but you never do it.  If I were food, you’d have eaten me by now.”

 

“Waiting for you to fatten up.” Yondu replied.

 

“Waiting for me to get gamey, more like.”  Peter sulked.  “Whiskey -”  He stopped.  Whiskey might be mad if Yondu killed him, but she also didn’t mind when Tullk ate people.  Or Brahl, or any of the others.  She just said that everything is food for someone.

 

Yondu sighed, “What you think Horuz would have done if you had done ta him what you did ta Kraglin?”

 

Peter was looking at the floor.  “Woulda pushed me out an airlock, Yondu,” he mumbled.

 

“Darn right!”  Yondu looked at the kid.  “I don’t understand why you can’t get it through that thick skull of yours that I is tryin’ to keep you alive!”

 

“Why bother!” Peter screamed.  “Why’d you take me from my Pa?!  Why you keep me out here?!  You don’t want me?  FINE!  So take me home!”

 

This wasn’t a new argument.  Yondu still had nothing to say to it. 

 

“No.”

 

He and the kid just glared at each other.

 

“I hate you! You are nothing but a creepy old man who likes hurting kids!”

 

Yondu didn’t reply.

 

He waited for some of the anger to drain out of the boy.  Gods knew he had been on the other side of this equation.  That didn’t make it better, but …

 

He watched as Peter went from nearly hyperventilating, to merely panting.  He kept watching as the tears of anger and frustration started to fall.

 

“I is tryin’ to keep you alive,” he repeated softly.

 

“If you took me home, you wouldn’t have to worry about keeping me alive.” Peter sobbed.

 

No, Yondu thought, because if I take you home, I might as well put an arrow through your brain myself.  It would amount to the same thing.   What he said, though, was, “I can’t do that kid.”  He was proud that he had kept his voice soft and even.

 

He watched the kid sniffle.  That wasn’t right.  He should be growing up more that that.  Maybe Tullk was right when he said the kid wasn’t gonna turn into an adult if they din’t let him be one.  Din’t teach him how to be one.  And that was the thing Yondu couldn’t do.  He couldn’t teach anyone how to be an adult.  Never learned hisself.  The best he could do was try to teach the kid how to be a weapon.  How to fight.  How to survive.  That was what Yondu had learned.  What he was good at.

 

“Look, you are stuck with us now, whether you like it or not.  You need to figure out how to make that work for yourself.  How to get that right in your head.  And that don’t mean seeing if you can goad the newbie into laying a beating on you.”

 

“I wasn’t trying to.” Peter sulked.

 

“No?  Then what was that all about?”

 

“It’s my ship.  I wanna be the one working on it.”

 

Yondu considered this.  “Really?  It dint look like you were trying very hard to scrape the corrosion off.”

 

“That’s boring.”

 

“Yep.  But takin’ care of a ship involves a whole lot of boring.”  Yondu kept watching the boy.  “But, if you have to scrape all that crud off the ship, it’ll learn ya to be more careful about flying through acid clouds.”

 

“That’s what Whiskey said.”

 

“She were right.  Now, pull yurself together and get back to work.  You wanna ship?  You gotta earn one, boy.  And that means showing you can be part of the crew.  Not just annoy the crew.  Or avoid the crew.  But actually work with the crew.  If you know better than Kraglin, then show him.  But you gotta not piss him off while you is doing it.”  Yondu thought for another moment, “And if he’s showing you something, you gotta try to learn it.  No one wants to try to teach you anything, cuz you is too much of a shit when they tries.  Aint never gonna be part of the crew if you keep acting like that.”

 

“Yes, Yondu.”

 

Watching the boy walk back to the wreck, Yondu wondered, again, what the hell he was doing.  Again.  If he just turned the kid over to Stakar and explained…  No!  It weren’t gonna help.  That a-hole wouldn’t even listen when Yondu had tried to explain.  Wouldn’t even let Whiskey talk to Aleta ‘bout what happened.  They dint need him.  Yondu could take care of his own.  And whether or not the boy liked it, he belonged to Yondu now.

 

Whiskey came over to where he was leaning in the doorway of her office.  “What was that all about?” she asked.

 

“Trying to do what you said and talk to the boy.”

 

“How’d that go?” she asked, curious.

 

“About as well as it ever does.”  Yondu sighed.

 

Whiskey patted his arm.  “I know this is hard for you.  But as long as we all stick together, this will be fine.  Peter’s not a bad kid.  He just isn’t a Ravager yet.”

 

“What if he turns out like his father?”

 

Whiskey tensed.  “We’ll worry about that when-  IF it happens.”

 

\----

 

Kraglin didn’t say anything when the kid came back red faced and sniffling.  It weren’t none of his business, but he did have to give the Captain credit.  Whatever he said, the kid was actually trying to do the work now.  That was an improvement from just being underfoot and full of snark all the time.  Kraglin finished buffing the last set of welds and walked over to where the kid was working.

 

Peter was scraping back and forth.

 

Kraglin cleared his throat.

 

“What?!” Peter demanded.

 

Kraglin frowned.  “Nevermind.”  He turned to go back to his own side of the wing.

 

Peter groaned.  “Look.  I’m sorry.  What were you gonna tell me?”

 

“Works better if you sand in circles than just back and forth.  Makes it harder to accidentally gouge the metal that way.”

 

Peter looked at him.

 

“Come over here and I’ll show you.”  Peter followed Kraglin a few feet to another patch of corrosion. “See,” he said, demonstrating with the sander, “If you go in a little circle, you can feather out, away from the bad patch.  Save more of the metal, that way.  And you get a better edge.  Then, sometimes, you don’t need to weld on a patch.  Sometimes you can just pour some fill and that’s good enough.”

 

Peter watched him.  He could see where that was more work sanding, but less work for every other step.  “Yeah, ok.”

 

Kraglin nodded and grinned at him.  Peter frowned and didn’t say anything, but he switched to Kraglin’s sanding method, so that was something.

 

“All the paint’s burned right off.” Kraglin said, just for something to say.  “I can’t even tell what colour she was.”

 

“Purple.” Peter answered.  “It was a stupid baby colour.”

 

Kraglin frowned.  He didn’t understand how colours could be baby colours.  That wasn’t something he had heard of before.  “You said it was your ship.  So why’d you pick purple if it’s a baby colour?”

 

“Shut up.”   
  


Kraglin sighed.  “I was just wondering.  Sheesh.”

 

“I didn’t pick it.  Tullk bought this ship for Whiskey, like twenty years ago, when she first became a pilot.  He always buys her stuff in purple.  To match her skin.  Purple clothes, hats, plants, ships.  I don’t even think she like purple all that much.  But she too in love with Tullk to tell him that.”  Peter made a gagging noise.  “The whole thing is just stupid.  They’re always kissing and stuff and ….” he trailed off, scrubbing extra hard on the spot where he was working.

 

“Well, they are married.” Kraglin said.

 

“Old married people aren’t supposed to do that sort of thing.  It’s disgusting.  Kissing is for teenagers and stuff.”

 

Kraglin just shook his head.  “They can’t be the only married couple on the ship, though, right?  I mean there has to be other people who…”  he trailed off.

 

“Nah.  Yondu doesn’t like hiring women.  He thinks they are too hard to take care off.  He and Whiskey fight about that a lot, but he always wins.  Says it’s just easier if there isn’t the ‘Sexual Tension’ between crew members.”

 

Kraglin started coughing.

 

“What?” Peter demanded.

 

“Nothing.” wheezed Kraglin.  “I just don’t think that picking your crew based on their plumbing is necessarily going to eliminated sexual tension.”

 

Peter shrugged.

 

Kraglin stood up and stretched out his back and shoulders.  Captain Udonta was watching him.  Shit.  Had he heard that last bit?  Kraglin smiled weakly at him.  Yondu turned and marched off.  Kraglin watched him leave.  Maybe…. Whatever species the Captain was, maybe he was picky.  Kraglin had heard that there were species out there that only used sex for reproduction.  He found that odd, himself.  His species could have sex just for fun, and if the point was to just get your rocks off, it didn’t really matter who was sucking your dick, as long as you could trust them not to bite.

 

He thought about the Captain’s jagged teeth and shuddered.  Yeah… that would take some trust all right.  Probably safer to stay away from that end all together.

 

 


	8. The Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yondu takes Kraglin drinking

Somehow, Kraglin ended up on the last ship leaving the Eclector.  Him, the Captain, the Quartermaster, the Bosun (a big green fella named Czar-doon) and the Chief of Maintenance.  They were currently without a first mate, Vorker not wanting the job anymore after The Incident.  Also on board were the two Terrans.  Andrei was the senior pilot on the crew and Pete was - 

 

“I’m NOT the Flargin’ Mascot!”

 

Kraglin tried not to laugh, but he couldn’t make eye contact with Tullk, because he knew, KNEW the smiling man would also be trying not to laugh.

 

Yondu cuffed the boy behind the ear. “Sorry about that officer,” he said to the customs official.  “Terrans ain’t on the official list of sentient species and some of the boys have a sense of humour about what they try to get the pup to say.”

 

The customs officer just frowned.  “Proof of vaccination is required for all livestock.”

 

Kraglin bowed his head, covered his eye and bit his lips. His shoulders shook with the effort of not laughing.

 

Yondu just sighed and pulled out some greasy paperwork for the kid.  Andrei grumbled and handed over his own.  Apparently everything checked out, because they were on their way shortly.  As they pulled away from the station, Yondu looked at Peter, “Yur lucky I bribed that guy not to press charges on Victis5, otherwise you’ld be wearing a muzzle right now.”

 

Peter rolled his eyes.

 

Kraglin uncovered his face and accidentally made eye contact with Tullk.  They both lost it.  Whiskey frowned at them.  Kraglin tried to get himself under control.  Tullk didn’t.  He kept laughing until tears were streaming down his scarred cheeks. Then he hugged his wife in an almost headlock and kissed her hard.  She shoved him off of her, but her eyes crinkled with a smile.  She grabbed his shirt and hauled him back in for another kiss a moment later.

 

Peter pretended to be sick.

 

When they got off the ship, Kraglin turned to head towards the entertainment district.  Captain Udonta put his hand on his shoulder.  “C’mon, Str- Obfonteri.  Staff meeting, this way.”  

 

Kraglin didn’t know what to think of that.

 

He really didn’t know what to think when Whiskey left with the kid and the men all headed into a strip club.  Kraglin wasn’t sure he wanted to get drunk and stare at titties with his soon to be ex-boss.  But Yondu was buying drinks and, what the hell, he was going to be in the wind in the morning anyway.

 

Kraglin sighed and followed them in.  Czar was already bringing over a round of drinks and Tullk was checking out the menu.  There were an assortment of Dancers in various sizes and species.  The cephalopod wasn’t doing anything for Kraglin, but it was interesting to watch.  

 

The Waitress needed six pasties to cover all her nipples.  She handed Kraglin a menu and nodded at the dancer.  “Would you like me to invite Cilia over to your table?”

 

Kraglin shook his head and looked away.  He knew he was blushing.  It was not a good feeling with the all of the ranking officers staring at him.

 

“After we eat,” replied Andrei.  Kraglin realized he was also staring at Cilia, only Andrei’s expression was a lot more predatory.

 

While Kraglin was trying to focus on the menu and not his co-workers, Yondu called over the manager and rented the whole club for the night.  Then he messaged the crew that it would be available starting in an hour.

 

“I owe you a steak.” Yondu growled.

 

Kraglin looked up and made eye contact with those red eyes.  Yondu grinned.  Kraglin shrugged.  Tullk ordered two of the bovine tenderloin with roast root veg.  When it was his turn to pick something, so did Kraglin.  Yondu laughed and slapped him on the back.

 

Kraglin tried to make non-committal small talk as the others all bragged about how many bots they were going to hire.  Yondu didn’t really join in.  Tullk talked about sharing a couple with his wife.  Then he noticed Kraglin looking baffled.

 

“Sharing keeps the relationship fresh.  We been together for decades.  Whiskey would be pretty tired of just my dick all the time if we didn’t mix it up a little.” Tullk smiled.  Whatever he said, he was clearly still over the moon with his wife.

 

Andrei sneered and opened his mouth to say something.  Czar stomped on his foot under the table.

 

The food arrived and Kraglin was shocked, “This is surprisingly good!”

 

The other men smirked.  Yondu nodded, “Ravagers know the best places to eat… among other things.”

 

Kraglin didn’t say anything.  The ship food weren’t that good.

 

Yondu continued without noticing, “That’s why we have the option to upgrade from standard rations.  It’ld be easier to just stock ration bars, but this way, if you like your food you can buy much better grub at cost. Keeps people happy to have good food available to them.”

 

Kraglin considered this around his mouthful of bovine.  “So why not offer it to everyone?”

 

It was Tullk that answered.  He shrugged.  “Some don’t care.  People complain in the ship’s share of the take gets too big.  Plus, everyone had different opinions about what counts as “good.” This lets people customize.”

 

Kraglin considered this.  He wasn’t getting part of the take, he was on base wages.  “So, how do people get a share of the take?”

 

Yondu finished his first beer with a belch.  “You already are, kid.  Half of any job goes to maintenance and repairs and stocking.  The other half is divided between the crew on a per day basis.  So, if you work, you get paid out of the take.  Or in your case out of the portion belonging to the guy who wrecked that ship.”

 

“Peter’s” Andrei supplied.

 

“Ah.” Kraglin said.  “That explains why the little-” he hesitated as everyone at the table tensed, “-guy doesn’t like me.” he continued, smoothly.

 

Tullk shrugged, “The thing about our crew, Kraglin, is once you are one of ours, we put up with a lot from you.  But, we expect you to be fair tolerant of others to.  No mate guarding, no shaming the crew.  You’ve been fair with Pete about his accident-”

 

“Not entirely sure it was an accident.” Kraglin muttered.  Everyone froze and looked at him.  Kraglin swallowed and added, “Sir.”

 

Tullk leaned back.  Yondu finished his second beer and waved over another round.  They were all watching him. “Why,” Yondu asked, “do you say that?”

 

Kraglin shrugged and hugged his glass a little tighter.  “Kid ain’t stupid.  Flying through an acid cloud is stupid.  But he was real unhappy with the ship’s paint job and an acid cloud is the fastest way to strip the paint off of anything.  Sir.”

 

Yondu just grunted and took another swig of beer.  He didn’t actually say anything, but his eyes were still locked on Kraglin’s face.

 

Well, that was unnerving.

 

Tullk cleared his throat.  “Where you from, Kraglin?”

 

“Xandar.”

 

“Everyone’s from Xandar.  What’s your species?”

 

Kraglin was about to ask why it mattered, when Yondu turned to glare at the smiling man.  “We don’t ask those questions.  Doc knows, ain’t no one else’s business.” He slid another beer over to Kraglin, who took it, gratefully.

 

Tullk held up his hands, “Easy there, Boss.  I don’t mean to offend, but if Mr Obfonteri here needs long term dietary or atmo considerations, it’ll be up to me to arrange that.”

 

Kraglin shook his head. “The Eclector is fine.”

 

Tullk was watching him, “You sure?  Whiskey is some worried you need fattening up.”

 

Here Kraglin laughed.  “Nah.  I got designer gut flora.  I can eat anything.”

 

“That’s handy.” Czar rumbled.

 

Kraglin took a swig of his second beer as Yondu finished his third.

 

“Anything in particular you wanna know?” Kraglin finally asked.

 

Yondu helped himself to another.  “Just wanna know more ‘bout our new crew member.”

 

Kraglin considered this.  “Am I, though?  I was convient.  That don’t really make me crew.”

 

Czar tipped his head back and roared with laughter. As he wiped the tears from his eyes, he gasped and snorted, “No!  It was not killing the kid after the itching powder that made you crew!  Anyone who can put up with the little shit is more than worth keeping around.”

 

Andrei nodded.  Tullk slapped Kraglin on the back, “Well, that and my wife likes you.  I’ll never heard the end of if if we run you off.”

 

Yondu nodded and helped himself to another drink.  He gestured around the room.  “See anything you like?  It’s on me.”

 

Kraglin looked around.  Andrei wandered off to watch Cilia.  Kraglin just shrugged.  “I dunno.  It seems a bit… silly.  I mean, “ he nodded at Cilia.  “She has eight legs and nothing I recognize as reproductive organs.  How hard is hanging upside down when your body is 60% arms?”

 

Tullk grinned an evil grin.  “You think you could do it, do you?”

 

There were some chuckles around the table.  “Could you?” Kraglin challenged.

 

Tullk stood up and made a point of stretching out his arms.  He walked up to a pole and excused the Krylorian that was grinding on it.  Then he reached up and grabbed it and inch wormed his way to the top to a round of cheers from his table.  He let go with one hand to wave and promptly slid down and landed on his ass.

 

The dancer covered her mouth with both hands and was trying not to laugh.  Tullk grinned up at her.  “OK, Darling, show us how it’s done.”

 

She shrugged and grinned and gestured for him to move out of the way.  “The pole spins, so if you hold on and give yourself a push...” she kicked up into the splits and the pole spun her in a circle.

 

“I can’t make my legs go like that.” Tullk said flatly.  “What if I want to do one of those hanging upside down things?”

 

Kraglin just shook his head and wandered over to the bar.  He was getting a quick run down of any unusual local laws, there was a certain amount of commotion going on.  He just ignored it.  The Ravagers got rowdy.  It was just a fact.  The planets spun.  The sun came up.  Xandarian beer tastes like piss.  The Ravagers get rowdy.  Fact of life.

 

This meant that he tried to finish his conversation.  Right up to the point where the guy he was chatting up became so distracted by whatever was going on that he could no longer keep up the conversation.  Then Kraglin turned around.  

 

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but, Tullk, Czar and Captain Udonta standing on the stage in booty shorts was not it.

 

Kraglin choked on his drink.

 

 


	9. The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how to describe this. Czar-doon in silver sparkle booty shorts has me completely distracted.

“Well, now, that’s something you don’t see everyday,”  the bartender mused.

 

“Nope.” Kraglin agreed.

 

“I mean, the blue guy - well, the red shorts match his implant.  Looks good, right?  And the…. Jigsaw puzzle man, well, I wouldn’t have figured him for choosing purple, but it works somehow.  What I don’t understand is why the big green guy picked silver  lamé .  Well, that and how he hasn’t managed to pop the seams on those shorts.  My word.”

 

Kraglin suddenly got the feeling that the cute bartender would be going back to the ship tonight.  Just not with him.  Damn.

 

He was right, though, the Captain looked damn fine in the shiny red shorts.  He had a little middle age spread, but not much.  On the other hand, his skin was almost as carved as Tullk’s.  Or maybe it was just that his scars were… more angry looking than the surgical precision of Tullk’s cuts.  You could see where they hadn’t healed properly.  Where they should have been sewn up but weren’t.  Or where someone had half hazardly stapled the wounds closed.  It was… harder for Kraglin to look at than it should have been.

 

Of course the Captain was completely ignoring Kraglin.  He had some cute little dancer explaining how to wrap your ankles around the top of the pole.  Her demonstration put her crotch right at eye level.

 

Kraglin sighed.  He had no business wishing Captain Udonta would look at him like that.

 

Yondu grabbed the pole with both hands and awkwardly climbed his feet up between them.  Then he wrapped his legs around the pole and let go with his hands.  He slid down, but managed to catch himself with a hand stand.  It was still pretty impressive.

 

So were those shorts.  Or at least how the Captain filled them out.  Kraglin found himself licking his lips as his eyes raked down Yondu’s body.  Just past the Captain's shoulders, Kraglin accidentally made eye contact.  The Captain was giving him a leering grin.  Kraglin blushed and looked away.

 

“Hot damn.” The bartender breathed.

 

Kraglin looked up in time to see Yondu unhook his ankles and kick his legs forward onto the floor.  This left him folded in half with a gratuitous ass shimmy in Kraglin’s direction.  Kraglin turned his back on the stage and tried to subtly adjust his pants.  The bartender grinned at him.

 

“Is he yours?”

 

Kraglin shook his head and took a sip of his drink.

 

“Pity.”  The bartender said.  “I bet he could be, the way he’s looking at you.”

 

Kraglin shook his head again.

 

“Really?  ‘Cause that man is checking out your ass as much as you were admiring his.”

 

Kraglin stiffened.  

 

In more than one place.

 

Fortunately, the bar counter hid it.

 

The bartender laughed and wandered over to the Ravager table with a platter full of beer.

 

Kraglin tried to think of something else.  Anything else.  He slammed back the rest of his drink and coughed.    The bartender came back and refilled his glass.

 

“Are you sure Blue isn’t yours?  He just told me you are drinking on his tab all night.”

 

“Nah.  He just … owes me a favour is all.”

 

“Huh.  Well, I can think of how I would collect.”

 

Kraglin hung out at the bar resolutely keeping his back to the stage, drinking whatever the bartender put in front of him.  There wasn’t any point in going over to visit with the crew.  He wasn’t staying.  He was going to just -

 

“Oy!  Kid!” Tullk called, “What’s his name?’ The man slurred, “Hey!  Kraggles!  C’mon over!  Yur skinny!  We need a someone light to try this with.”

 

This is a bad idea, Kraglin thought.  He walked over to the stage anyway.

 

“I don’t know what you want me to do, but I is pretty sure I ain’t drunk enough yet.”

 

Czar waved at the bartender, then pointed at Kraglin and held up three fingers.  “We’ll soon take care of that.” 

 

Tullk laughed.  Then he took the dancer’s hand, she bounced and ended up sitting on Tullk’s shoulder.  “Yur light, and tall, so you have a good starting advantage.  Think you could do that and end up on the Captain’s shoulder?”

 

“No.”

 

“C’mon, Kraggles, give it a try.” Tullk purred.

 

“It isn’t that hard,” the dancer assured him.

 

Czar didn’t say anything, but he handed Kraglin a stiff triple.

 

Kraglin shook his head and downed his drink.

 

“You don’t have to do this.” Yondu said quietly.

 

Kraglin looked around.  The crew had gone quiet and was watching him expectantly.  Aw, hell, it weren’t like he was ever gonna see them again after tomorrow.  He shrugged.  “Fine, whatever.”

 

There was an appreciative roar from the crowd, who promptly burst into applause.

 

It took a few tries and a lot more explaining than Kraglin would have guessed but on the third try he ended up sitting on the Captain's shoulder.  In the process, the man had his hands on Kraglin’s waist and, occasionally his ass.  Whisky dick may have kicked in, and the world may feel fuzzy and warm, but he enjoyed that rather more than he should have.

 

Once he finally got there, Kraglin punched the air and a huge cheer went up from the very drunk Ravagers.  From up here, he could see Whiskey standing in the back applauding.

 

Yondu was surprisingly careful as he lowered Kraglin to the floor.  Once he was standing, more or less on his own.  Yondu finally let go of his waist and nodded to a booth in the back corner.  Kraglin followed his nearly naked Captain, and if he admired the view, well, Kraglin was male and he was breathing.  That was the excuse he was sticking with.

 

He sat down and the bartender brought over another tray of drinks.  Yondu watched him knock back another one.

 

“Rumour has it that you ain’t happy traveling with us.”

 

Kraglin choked.

 

“What can I do to change that?”

 

Kraglin’s brain supplied a bunch of mental images before shorting out.

 

“Uh…” he said intelligently.

 

Yondu leaned back, put one arm across the back of the bench and scratched himself.  Kraglin’s eyes followed the gesture then snapped up to the ceiling when he realized he was staring.

 

It had taken him way longer than it should have to realize he was staring.  He heard Yondu chuckle softly.

 

“See something you like, boy?” Yondu practically purred.

 

“No, sir!” Kraglin gasped.  

 

Yondu frowned.

 

“I mean… I’m sorry, sir.  That was very inappropriate, sir.”

 

Now it was Yondu that was shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

 

Gods, Kraglin thought, way to go and make it worse.

 

Yondu cleared his throat again.  He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck.

 

They sat there in awkward silence for a moment.

 

Then Whiskey sat down next to Kraglin and glared at Yondu.

 

“Are you OK, Kraglin?” she asked respectfully.

 

“I is just fine, ma’am.”   
  


“Well, aren’t you the polite drunk,” she smiled.  “OK.  Here’s the deal, you stick around and we pay you the standard Ravagers mech wages and get you flight training with a veteran pilot.  At the end of your first year, you get a bonus of the down payment of an M-class.  Call it hazard pay for not killing Pete.”

 

Kraglin tried to concentrate, This was important.

 

“Is I gonna be on babysitting duty the whole time?”

 

Whiskey shook her head. “Nope.  Repairing the wreck is being downgraded to a when people have time job.  We have lots of ships and they all need maintenance.  We always need welders and engineers.”

 

Kraglin nodded.  “I’m mostly an electro smith, ma’am.  I would like the chance to do that a bit.”

 

Whiskey looked hard at him and Kraglin could hear her tapping her foot under the table.  “How do you feel about working with the weapons division?”

 

Kraglin wobbled a bit as he shrugged.  “I could.  But mostly I work on ship electrical.”

 

Whiskey looked thoughtful.  “Excuse me for a moment.”  And with that she left the table.  Once she was gone, Kraglin eased himself back to the middle of the bench.  His leg brushed Captain Udonta’s.  That felt nice.  The man was completely focused on watching him.  It should have been intimidating.  Yondu Udonta had a reputation.  Nonetheless, it was surprisingly sexy.

 

Kraglin inadvertently sighed.  It was a much more dreamy sigh than it should have been.  Something that belonged to one of his eight sisters, not a grown man.  Kraglin blushed again and ducked his head and hoped the Captain hadn’t noticed.

 

The Captain had noticed.

 

It was that sigh that reminded him that Kraglin was just a kid.  Barely older than Pete.  Yondu turned his head and looked out into the crowd.  There was no way the Captain should be flirting with the greenest recruit on the ship.  What would Aleta say?

 

And now Yondu’s brain stuttered.  Damn.  He was better than this.  This was why Ravagers didn’t travel with kids.  Just because Kraglin was an legally an adult didn’t make him the same as a forty year old man running an entire clan.  Yondu crossed his arms over his chest and frowned slightly out at his very drunk crew.

 

Whiskey sat down.  “Done.” she announced.

 

Both Kraglin and Yondu started then looked at her in confusion.  She rolled her eyes, “You will be given electro smith assignments with the maintenance crew, Kraglin.”

 

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

 

“You are very welcome, Kraglin Obfonteri.”  She gave him a genuine smile.  “I liked you before, but anyone who can put up with my husband and son when they are this shit faced is more than worth keeping around.”

 

Kraglin nodded.

 

“Of course, I still think you should eat something. You’re too thin and you’ve been hitting the sauce pretty hard yourself.”  She turned to Yondu.  “Why don’t you go put your pants on and send over that waiter on your way by?”

 

He nodded silently and left the table.  Kraglin watched him go.  Damn.  That view just never failed to impress.  Then he caught Whiskey watching him with a soft look on her face.  Kraglin raised an eyebrow.

 

“You’re a good kid, Kraglin.  I am very happy my son found you.”

 

Kraglin considered his Captain, who was currently shaking his ass with his drunken crew.  Then he looked at Whiskey watching the boys with the protective air the earned her the title of ship’s mom.  He thought about his place in all of this mess.  He may have started out as an convenient hostage, but they had made a place for him anyway.  “Yes, ma’am.  So is I.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super big thank you to Fournostril and Winkybells for the beta reading. You were both instrumental in me getting this done.

**Author's Note:**

> I hate tagging. If you have any suggestions, please leave them in the comments.


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